Alternate Beginnings
by A-moment-Behind
Summary: How Ratonhnhake:ton and Aveline could have met if featured in The Tyranny of King Washington. Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed or any of the characters. All credit goes to Ubisoft and others behind its production.


Aveline wasn't sure where she was.

When her eyes had opened, she found herself propped up against a snow-covered boulder. Her breathing had been even until she became fully aware of her situation, sending her heart into panic mode, but she knew that if she didn't calm herself down she'd get unnecessarily hurt.

She took deep breaths of the sharp cold air and calmed down. Her eyes remained closed as she thought back to whatever led her to her recent predicament. For some reason, her head hurt, clouded the memories every time they drew near the surface of her conscious. Rubbing her forehead, she summoned them again. This time they became clear, still fragmented, but clear enough to make out the guards chasing her into the forest. They shot at her. The shot. Pain. Something was wrong, but she couldn't place what.

They had continued chasing her a while but had ultimately given up, allowing her to collapse from exhaustion. But she was confused. She never tired easily.

Something flashed in her mind. Red. Trails of red marring the white ground behind her. The red seemed familiar and important, but her memories fled her then. She was still too tired to recall everything.

A little shake of her head, Aveline knew she needed to get away still, needed to find somewhere warm to seek shelter for the day until she could get her bearings. Food would be nice too, she thought as she gripped onto the boulder to stand.

The instant she moved her left arm and shoulder, pain erupted over the area, spreading like a wildfire throughout her body. It made her shout out, falling to her knees and clutching her left shoulder. The pain didn't fade, not one bit, only intensified as she blood pumped harder through her once numb arm. She didn't notice the pain from the shock and the cold which had numbed her entire body, but she could feel it now.

This wasn't good. One of the men must have gotten her with his musket. The red trail had been her blood. This really wasn't good. If she didn't find shelter fast, she would either die from the loss of blood or from the cold.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled off her scarf and tied it around her wounded shoulder, making a makeshift sling out of the material. Tears welled in her eyes from the burst of pain. It threatened to take her consciousness once again, but she fought through it. Not this time.

Getting up successfully this time, Aveline swayed a bit before steadying herself on the boulder. Her breath came out ragged, forming billowing white puffs that fogged her sight slightly.

Looking off to the west first, or what she thought was west, Aveline continued walking. She didn't know where she was going, but she couldn't stand around all day. She couldn't die before those who had wronged her, wronged her people were dealt with first. The memory of her mother disappearing then of slaves being sold like heads of cabbage flashed through her mind, inciting a high burning flame within her.

She couldn't—wouldn't—die. Her mission was hers alone. Only she could finish it.

Aveline didn't know how far she walked. She just kept going, ignoring the burning in her legs and the numbness that returned to her arm. The wound still throbbed with pain, but it was manageable for the moment if she didn't make many jarring movements.

Passing a tree, Aveline could smell something musky. Her instincts told her that it wasn't an animal, and before she knew it, people started popping out of the bushes around her. First, a man on her left then another on her right. A few were in front of her and another behind her. She slowed to a stop, standing in the middle of them and watching every movement they made. They did the same with her.

She eyed the men in front of her, taking in their attire. At first glance, she could tell they were Natives, but of what tribe? She heard tales of Natives scalping men who dared trek through their territories. She remembered the stories told by Englishmen and Frenchmen alike on the 'savages' living out in the woods like uncivilized beasts. She didn't think they were like that. They were just misunderstood and taken advantage of just like her people, but even now, especially with her current position, Aveline didn't trust anyone.

Slowly, Aveline shifted, so she could keep the men behind her in her sights. Her movement broke the silent spell over them. A man in her right pulled his bow up, raising an arrow at her. She couldn't understand a thing he said, but she knew a warning when she heard one.

Raising her good hand, Aveline waited until the man closest to her right came near to her, and then she sprang into action, activating her hidden blade and slicing at him. She caught his shoulder, slicing open a good and deep wound. The man stumbled back with a shout, already holding onto his arm, but blood ebbed through his fingers.

Aveline made a dash for it while the men looked at their comrade. Sure enough though, a few seconds later, she could hear footsteps advancing after her. That head start wouldn't last long, and she knew it.

Darting between trees and over fallen logs, Aveline's arm started protesting. The pain erupted again, making itself known and causing her to fumble over a tree root hidden under the blanket of snow. She crashed into a tree before rolling a few feet away. Covered in snow and in more pain, Aveline tried to stand but stopped when the men caught up to her.

One reached down and grabbed her wounded arm. She yelled, swiping at him with her blade, and he let go, jumping out of her reach.

"_Allez-vous-en_," she hissed, mostly due to the pain coursing through her.

The men looked at one another before another nodded at the man she almost cut. He came at her again, but she kept slicing away in his direction.

"_N'approchez pas_," Aveline shouted at him again and again. She felt less like herself. Never before had she been put in this situation and more and more she felt like a cornered animal, only able to bare her fangs—blade—to stave off her attackers.

But she had made the mistake of focusing too much on the man before her. She didn't notice the one pulling up before her until she saw his arm raise from the corner of her eye. Before she could react, his hand connected with her neck, knocking the wind out of her. She could feel herself drowning in the darkness consuming her sight and could feel her body swaying. She blacked out before her body could reach the ground.

Yet, her body never reached the cold ground. The man who hit her had reacted quickly enough to catch her, making sure that he didn't touch her wounded shoulder. She had been difficult and though she wounded one of his men, he knew that she needed their help. He was going to take her to their leader. He'd know what to do. He understood her language.

She'd be in the mercy of Ratohnhaké:ton then.


End file.
